Theo Wankott

Theo Walcott is like a woman that is reasonably hot, who has a good career, above average intelligence, well traveled, with a great body.

You take her on a date.

The cinema is out, so is the bar – you have a feeling she is above that shit – so you take her to a fancy wank restaurant that you usually reserve for Valentine’s Day. The waiter tells you about the specials as if he is describing the diet of an Amazon insect that you’ve never heard of. He then describes a wine list – you immediately switch off, wanting to get the fuck out of there. The waiter is now akin to being a Man United aficionado, and is therefore a cunt. However, your pretentious date seems to be enamored by the tosser.

She orders the special and makes you buy a $100 bottle of wine. At this point you think – she better give me the goods tonight. But she doesn’t. Like Walcott she gets injured at the crucial moment.

You take the phony bird home and get frisky. Things between you get heated. To the point where she tells you that the film “There Will Be Blood” will appear if you carry on.

15 minutes into the game and Walcott is off injured again. What a let down.

I want my women to be like Alex Song. Non-stop action for 90 minutes. Commands her box. Aggressive going forward. Good head. Knows how to play her balls. Comfortable under pressure.

Instead, I get Theo Wankcott. Falls over like a drunk. Heads the ball with her teeth. Can only last 15 minutes then complains about cramps. Talks about dating a celebrity like Wankott talks about playing for England in the World Cup.

Is it fucking worth it? With a bird like Wankott – fuck No!

Walcott is all hype and no orgasm.

Give me this 6 foot 8 giant that plays in Romania.

I’m sick of this constantly injured Theo Wankott.

Keep it Arsenal

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